


A Love That Would Look And Sound Like A Movie

by holysmoaksoliver



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Movie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holysmoaksoliver/pseuds/holysmoaksoliver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unconnected ficlets based on movies that I love featuring Oliver and Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first ficlet is based on He's Just Not That Into You, because Alex and Gigi are surprisingly fitting for Oliver and Felicity... I have a ton of other movie au's planned (they can be found on my tumblr... I'm holysmoaksoliver there too). So feel free to bookmark if you're interested! Please feel free to leave a comment, because comments are love... and who doesn't need a little love now and then? Thanks lovelies!

Barry walked Felicity to her door. Over the course of their date, they had settled into an easy chatter that was almost flirtatious and she wondered if this was how dating was supposed to be. Easy and fun and light. There was no heavy sexual tension, no frustrated sighs or words with double meanings. It was everything that being around Oliver wasn’t.

Because ever since she’d met Oliver Queen, owner and manager of Verdant, six months ago, her life had been...complicated. And most of those complications had to do with Oliver and his rules-- thinking that he knew more about dating than she did. Which was laughable, because Felicity met men all the time.

Sure, usually it was at a happy hour with Sara and if the men ever called they only went on one date never to be heard from again. But that didn’t mean she had a problem with dating. Just that the men she was meeting were busy. They had business trips or demanding jobs or sick relatives.

Biting her lower lip, Felicity shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She’d learned better than that since then. Oliver had taught her better than that.

Because according to Oliver, men were simple. If a man wanted to be with a woman, he would make it happen. There was nothing too busy, nothing else more important than being with someone you really wanted to be with. To Oliver, that was grand rule number one.

“Trying to see how many digits of pi you have memorized?” Barry asked with an easy smile.

Felicity shook the thoughts free that had lodged themselves in her brain. She adjusted her glasses, giving Barry an apologetic smile as they rode the elevator to her floor. “No, sorry. Just thinking about that day we were supposed to meet.” 

It wasn’t totally a lie. Oliver had set her up with Barry a while ago, only Barry hadn’t been able to make it and had Oliver met her instead. Felicity’s panache for overanalyzing told her that it had been Oliver’s plan all along. That he was too embarrassed to ask her out and that Barry was an invention to ease them into a relationship. Only her overanalyzing mind was wrong. Something she’d quickly learned if her resulting argument with Oliver had anything to say about it. Then Barry had called and asked her out… and well… here they were.

Barry chuckled, reaching behind his head and rubbing a hand across his neck. “Yeah, I’m kind of ashamed it took me this long to call you and set up a date. Clearly I had no idea what I was missing.”

Feeling a blush creep up to her cheeks, Felicity’s eyes fell to the floor even as her smile widened. The elevator dinged on her floor and the doors opened. Barry let her out first, following behind her as they made their way to her doorstep. 

“Well I’m glad you finally called,” she said, pausing to retrieve her keys from her bag. “I had a really great time with you tonight.” She turned the key in the lock, opening the door and stepping inside to turn and face him.

“Me too,” Barry said, hands wringing nervously in front of him. It was sweet, Felicity thought, the way he was kind of nervous. Like he didn’t know whether or not he should go in for a kiss.

Felicity leaned in first, arms extended. Barry stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her for a quick hug and she wondered-- for the umpteenth time that night-- if this was dating was supposed to be like. Because on paper she and Barry were perfect for eachother. Both slightly nerdy but in a way that Sara had always deemed ‘cute’. Over the course of the evening, Felicity and Barry had an ease of conversation and more shared interests than they could ever exhaust in discussion. Shouldn’t she be feeling butterflies or electricity or something? Shouldn’t the ease of it make it more exciting?

Barry released her and stepped back. “I’ll call you,” he said with an enthusiastic smile. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Felicity actually believed a man when he said those words.

She smiled back, giving her head a little nod. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he answered with a small wave before heading back toward the elevator.

Felicity closed the door, letting out a little sigh as she pulled off her coat and kicked out of her shoes. It hadn’t really been like she’d expected, but at the same time, it was better than a lot of the dates she’d had in the past. Back when she was too nervous about saying or doing the right thing, when she waited by the phone for days on end for a guy to call her back, or call him too many times only to hang up without saying anything at all.

Oliver had helped her become more than that girl. He’d shown her how to be strong and confident. He helped her learn that just because she had heard once about a woman that had a one night stand with a guy and it turned into a relationship that it wasn’t a rule to happen like that. Those kinds of people were the exception. And when a guy didn’t call when he said he would, or blew her off after one date-- that made Felicity the rule.

It had been a hard pill to swallow, because who ever wanted to be told that they weren’t the exception? But Felicity knew she was better off for it. She knew she had to hold out instead of giving in to every jerk that came her way. She couldn’t get smitten over every man who had a pretty smile and offered to buy her a drink. Because she was the rule.

She dropped her keys and purse on the table and headed for the kitchen and her half-empty pint of Mint Chip when a knock sounded on the door. Smiling, she imagined that Barry had come back, had changed her mind about kissing her. And if that was the case, she would probably let him.

“Did you forget something?” she asked, her voice amused even before she pulled the door open.

She had expected to find Barry there. But instead she found--

“Oliver?” she questioned, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, I did,” he said, a little sigh escaping his lips. Lips that she shouldn’t be staring at since she’d just gotten back from a date with his friend Barry and she was still angry with Oliver. She re-focused her attention on his eyes.

“What did you forget?” Her eyes hardened a bit, recalling the last time she’d seen him. The way he’d yelled at her for assuming he wanted to be with her. The way she’d yelled at him for never opening himself up and letting people get close to him. It had been weeks since that fight and she hated how much her feelings of anger felt like they were covering up feelings of missing him.

“This, actually,” he said, pulling a pen out of his jacket pocket and presenting it to her. There was an expectant pause between them as she took the pen from his hand. “Do you remember the day we met?” he asked.

Felicity was flustered, her mind racing with possibilities-- all the things she’d told herself not to hope for with him. She was sure emotions were cascading across her face faster than they could be identified.

“I--I made up some story so I could see Tommy again, because he hadn’t called me.” She remembered. Of course she remembered. Oliver had always chided her for thinking too much, for giving every man she’d ever been out with more forgiveness than he deserved.

It was Oliver who made her understand that guys were simple. If they wanted to be with a girl, they made it happen.

“And I told you that I needed to return a pen to him,” she said with a sigh, wondering why Oliver was making her relive this when she’d come so far from the person that she’d been. “I borrowed it from Tommy to give him my number and--”

“It was red.” Oliver took a step toward her. He was close, so close her head was fogging at his smell, his presence, his everything.

Felicity pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, forcing herself to keep that fire of anger in her belly just a little bit longer. She wasn’t the same girl that she’d been before she met Oliver. She wasn’t going to just give in and let him walk all over her. He’d taught her better than that.

“You came all the way here at eleven o’clock at night, just to return a pen?” She asked, her brow quirked up, recalling their first conversation that night. When she’d been so strung out over Tommy not calling her.

“Yeah,” Oliver said. He seemed caught off guard by her directness. And perhaps a little… flustered? “Yeah, I thought I should just come up with some really great excuse to get over here. I mean, I thought that was how it was done.”

Crossing her arms, Felicity leaned against the doorway, amused to see him so flustered. Because she had been right in identifying that particular emotion in him. Oliver Queen was flustered. It was a sight she’d never expected.

“Felicity, I… I can’t stop thinking about you. And every time I do my brain just gets jumbled and the words just… and I babble. I’m turning into…”

“Me,” she said. It was an odd feeling, to have Oliver babbling at her doorstep when she’d just gotten back from a date from someone else. She had yelled at Oliver the last time she had seen him about how he didn’t let anyone in. How he used women for guiltless pleasure but never let himself open up. She had told him that she’d rather put herself out there and attempt at relationships-- even if she was terrible at it-- than to lock herself up the way he was doing.

Oliver was quiet. He gave her a nod, but let the weight of what he was saying sink in for her.

Felicity held up the pen, waving it at him. “You know, a wise person once told me that if a guy wants to be with a girl he will make it happen. No matter what.”

“That’s true.”

“But when I was all but hurling my body onto yours, you did not seem to want to make it happen.”

Her eyes fell to the ground, still feeling emotionally compromised from that night. She’d been so stupid, letting her brain talk her into seeing ‘signs’ that Oliver had wanted to be with her. Signs that were never really there. Signs that she’d made up in her head because Oliver was being nice to her.

Oliver sighed, taking another step forward, invading her personal space, pulling her eyes back up to meet his. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “But here’s the thing about that… You were right. I’ve spent so long keeping everyone at arms length because I thought it gave me more power over situations, power over the women I was with… that I never realized when I actually fell for one of them.”

Their eyes stayed locked for a long moment, each searching for some truth that only the other held. And then Felicity broke their spell, eyes slipping to the floor. She couldn’t let herself give in now. She’d made a vow to herself to do better, to be better. Oliver stepped back from her and it gave her the strength to answer him.

She swallowed hard, eyes darting up only enough to see that his were downcast as well. “Look, I just got back from my first date with your friend Barry.” Felicity blew out a breath and met his eyes again, even though she knew it was dangerous to look at them for too long. They’d convince her to do something she wasn’t sure she wanted to do. “I think he might be exactly what I need. No drama. He calls, he does what he says he’s going to do.”

“I could do that--”

“But you didn’t.” Her voice was strong and unwavering. “You know that same wise person once told me that I am the rule.” 

Oliver moved in closer again, their faces just inches apart. 

She could feel his breath on her cheeks as she spoke, her voice more animated and passionate as she went. “I am the rule and I have to stop thinking that every guy is going to change. That I have to stop thinking that I’m the--”

His lips found hers, cutting her off mid-sentence, stealing her breath and making every inch of her body feel electric. Oliver’s hands went to her cheeks, cupping them as his lips moved against hers in a gentle but firm resolution. He wanted her to know that he meant it when he kissed her. Even if her brain wasn’t functioning enough to find that conclusion until much later.

Oliver kissed her slowly, his lips barely touching hers, telling her what his words could not. He stayed there, hands cupping her cheeks, until she regained thought and basic motor functions.

“I’m the exception,” she said, smiling. He was still close, so close that his lips nearly met hers when she spoke.

“You are my exception,” he said with a content smile. He pressed his lips to hers again and Felicity found herself wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself onto her tip toes as electricity coursed through her veins and his fingers scorched every inch that they explored along the length of her arms.

They kissed until her mind felt dizzy and she was sure that he had meant every single word that he’d told her. Felicity had never expected to learn the truth about the rules that night. Because the truth was that everyone was someone’s exception. She and Oliver might have gone about it all backwards, but she would have never been his exception if she hadn’t given in to the rules.


	2. Razzle Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on 13 Going on 30. Oliver wakes up one morning and he’s not the kid he was when he went to bed the night before. In fact, more has changed than just his age. Can he fix what he doesn’t remember breaking? (For my Tumblr Arrow Movie AU Challenge- week 1- Romantic Comedy. )

It still felt like a dream.  Even if he knew that it wasn’t, it still felt like it was.  Last night Oliver Queen had gone to bed as a 13 year old.  He had bombed his birthday party as Tommy and all of their friends teased him about his friendship with scholarship student Felicity before walking out.  The last thing he remembered was Felicity giving him wishing dust for his birthday and locking himself in the closet and refusing to come out.

 

And then this morning he woke up and he was… old.

 

There were a lot of things that Oliver could reconcile himself with.  But skipping more than half his life and waking up as a 30 year old, that was beyond his reasoning.  Because there had been a woman in his shower this morning, and he had muscles in places that he didn’t even know existed.  He was in a city that wasn’t Starling and there was a car waiting for him outside the apartment complex he’d stumbled out of.

 

So, maybe it was a dream.  Or maybe he’d bumped his head and retroactively forgotten the last decade and a half.  But one way or another he was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

 

A chauffeur ushered him into the car and Oliver slid into the back seat, hopeful that wherever he was going he could use the drive to figure out what was going on.

 

“Casual Tuesday?” the woman sitting beside him in the back seat asked.

 

Oliver groaned.  “Jeans aren’t even acceptable here?  What the crap is this?"

 

The woman handed him a coffee cup and ran a quick hand through his hair to fix it.  “Out too late again last night partying with Tommy?”

 

Oliver perked up at that.  “Tommy?  Like Tommy Merlyn?  Awesome.  Where is he?”

 

“At the office you were supposed to be at 20 minutes ago,” she answered flatly.  “What happened last night?”

 

“That is exactly what I’m trying to figure out,” Oliver let out a sigh.  He took a sip from the coffee cup and then spit it out all over the back of the town car.  “Blech, ugh.  What is this?”

 

The woman beside him rolled her eyes.  Oliver wondered if she’d put up with many of his antics in the past.  It seemed like that was probably the case.

 

“It’s coffee,” she said.  “Black with an extra shot of espresso.  It’s what you’ve been drinking every day since I started working for you, Mr. Queen.”

 

“It’s disgusting,” he said, handing it back to her.  “There’s no sugar in it.”

 

“You gave up sugar three years ago.”

 

Oliver made a face and turned toward her.  “You’re kidding,” he deadpanned.  “That’s the worst decision I’ve ever made.  Why would I do that?”

 

“Abs?” she offered.

 

Oliver pulled up his shirt, running a hand over his chiseled stomach.  “Right,” he smirked.  “Abs.”  He dropped his shirt again.  

 

The car came to a stop outside a tall building and the chauffeur came around to open Oliver’s door.  “Mr. Queen,” he said with a nod.

 

Oliver slid out, his head tilting back until the top of the building came into view.  “This is GQ,” he said, a little breathless.

 

“I’d hope so,” a man said, pulling Oliver’s attention back down to street level.  “Otherwise we’re both in trouble.”

 

Oliver’s brow furrowed as he met the man’s eyes.  There was something familiar about him, although he was too old, too mature.  “Tommy?” Oliver questioned.

 

A smile split the man’s face and he clamped a hand over Oliver’s shoulder.  “We’ve really got to stop the mid-week partying.  Even if it is for your birthday, Ollie.”  Tommy sighed.  “And I thought we decided no more jeans to work.  Especially considering the plan.”

 

“The plan?” Oliver repeated.

 

“The takeover,” Tommy whispered as they walked into the building.  “One of a hostile nature?”

 

“You and me?” Oliver asked.

 

“That  was  the plan.  Although now you’re beginning to make me second guess our partnership.”

 

They walked through the main doors, the security checkpoint and to the executive elevator on the main level.  All the while the woman from the car trailed behind them with Oliver’s discarded coffee in tow.  It must be his assistant.  Assistant.  Oliver Queen had an assistant for his job at GQ Magazine.

 

“No, sorry.  Just had a rough night.”

 

The elevator deposited them upstairs where Oliver’s assistant quickly headed down the hall.

 

“Might want to follow Aubrey,” Tommy said, pointing in the direction his assistant disappeared.  “She’ll get you into a new shirt at least before our meeting.”

 

Oliver nodded, trailing after Aubrey.  Maybe while he was at it he could track down Felicity and figure out what exactly had happened to him-- or even just get some insight into his life.  No matter what, he was sure he could count on her to know.

 

Aubrey pushed him into an office and closed the door.  “Shirt off,” she declared, pulling a blue button down shirt off a hanger.  Oliver obliged, whipping his shirt off over his head and taking the new shirt.  “Pants too,” she said, grabbing a pair of dress pants and removing them from a hanger as well.  Oliver cleared his throat, feeling slightly embarrassed about undressing in front of his assistant.

 

“Are you shy now too?” she said, rolling her eyes.  She turned her back, holding the pants out to him.  “You’re impossible today.”

 

“Can you call Felicity for me?” Oliver asked, stripping out of his jeans and pulling the new pants on quickly.  “You can look now.”

 

Aubrey turned back to him.  “Felicity who?”

 

“My best friend.  Felicity Smoak.”

 

“Great, another new girl for me to break up with in a week?”

 

“It’s not like that,” he said defensively.  “She’s just my best friend.  Has been forever.”

 

Aubrey seemed less than enthused.  “Whatever you say, Mr. Queen.”

 

Oliver scrunched his nose.  “Don’t call me that.  My father is Mr. Queen.  Just Oliver.”

 

“Sure… Oliver.”  She pulled the door back open as he finished buttoning his shirt and then led him out the door and down the hallway, depositing him in a conference room with a meeting that looked like it had already started.

 

“I’m glad our junior editors finally decided to grace us with their presence,”  a woman at the head of the table said flatly.  “Mr. Queen, Mr. Merlyn, I trust that you are both late because you’ve been working hard on the magazine re-design?”

 

Oliver felt like a deer in the headlights.  How was he supposed to know what he was doing at a magazine?  He was a freshman in high school.

 

“Yes, Isabel,” Tommy piped in.  “We’ve both got presentations ready for this afternoon.”

 

“Great,” Isabel answered.  “Two o’clock.  I expect you both there on time.  It’s all our asses riding on this.”

 

Oliver nodded, but stayed silent.  And when Isabel dismissed them all a few moments later, Oliver let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t addressed during the meeting.  It was like when Felicity wouldn’t let him copy her homework, that antsy feeling that the teacher just knew he wasn’t prepared and would call on him when he had no idea what the answer was.  Except Felicity wasn’t here to bail him out now.

 

Aubrey met him at the door with a stack of things in one hand and a slip of paper in the other.  “I tracked down a Felicity Smoak here in Los Angeles.  Here’s her address.  Phone number is unlisted.”

 

Oliver grabbed the paper.  “Thank you Aubrey!” He exclaimed, resisting the urge to hug her-- but just barely.  He was halfway to the elevator before he remembered the presentation and turned back.  “I have a presentation ready for this afternoon, right?”

 

“I’ll make sure it’s ready to go,” she answered, pushing the other folders and papers into his arm.  “Keep your phone with you.  And no booze!”

 

No booze , Oliver scoffed as he hopped into the elevator.  It was still morning for crying out loud.  What kind of guy was grown-up Oliver anyway?  His assistant kept clean clothes for him and he regularly changed in front of her?  He made her call him Mr. Queen, he drank terrible coffee and he had completely given up sugar.  So far, waking up as an adult was not all he’d wanted it to be.  

 

Aubrey had told him to keep his phone with him, but that didn’t make any sense.  He didn’t have a--

 

Oliver checked the stack of things Aubrey had given him on his way out.  There was something there that might be a phone?  The screen sprang to life under his touch.  After hailing a cab he looked through the thing.  It was indeed a phone.  But there were games and photos and more little squares than he could identify.  But no Felicity.  She wasn’t a contact, there were no photos of any women he could easily identify as her, although his ‘Camera Roll’ was full of photos of him and Tommy and more beautiful women than he could imagine.  It only got worse from there.  Or better, depending on how you looked at it.  Women in various states of undress and filthy messages accompanying the photos.  Maybe grown-up Oliver wasn’t so bad after all.

 

The taxi dropped him off at the corner of where Felicity’s apartment was.  Oliver walked the rest of the way with his phone securely in his pocket and the rest of the papers tucked under his arm.  The area was nice, close to the beach just like Felicity always said she’d live.  He pressed the buzzer for her apartment and waited.

 

“Yeah?” A voice came over the intercom.

 

“Hi, this is Oliver and I’m looking for Felicity.  And I don’t know if you’re the right Felicity but if you used to live in Starling City and your favorite soda is Orange Crush than I need to speak to you right now, please!”

 

There was silence on the other end for a long moment.  “I didn’t get any of that,” her voice said, static breaking it up.  “But if you’re from Ming Gardens buzz twice.  Otherwise I don’t really--”

 

Oliver buzzed twice.  The door opened and he raced up the stairs, amazed by his fitness level.  He’d never been a really athletic kid, he’d always been kind of slim but he preferred causing trouble to playing sports.  He took the three flights of stairs with ease and found the door for apartment 3F.

 

Taking a deep breath, he knocked several times.

 

The door opened a few inches, a chain across to keep it from opening further.  A small blonde woman with glasses answered, her face a mixture of confusion and slight annoyance.  “You’re not Chinese,” she said.

 

“Felicity?” Oliver said, feeling more breathless now than when he’d run up the stairs.  She was gorgeous, with bouncing curls and bright blue eyes.

 

“Yeah,” she answered, still looking confused.

 

“You’re blonde,”  he shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around it.  “You’re different.”

 

“Yeah…” she said again.

 

“You don’t know me?”  Oliver frowned.  How could he live in a world where Felicity wasn’t his best friend?  Where she didn’t even know what he looked like as an adult?  “Wow, that’s so weird because yesterday you were there…” he paused.  “But the thing is, it wasn’t yesterday because I’m not 13.”

 

“Oliver,” she said cautiously.  

 

“Yes!” he exclaimed, feeling the hope rekindle within him.

 

“Oliver Queen.”

 

“Yes, Felicity it’s me!”

 

The door shut swiftly in his face and Oliver took a step back.  Were things between them really that terrible?  Did she care so little for him now that she didn’t even want to see him?  This world was beyond bizarre.  It was slowly spiraling into a nightmare.  He turned, resigning himself to figure it out on his own when the door opened up again, fully this time.

 

“Hey,” she said quietly.

 

Oliver pulled her tightly into his arms, nearly knocking them both backwards with the force of it.  Because for him, Felicity’s friendly face was all he needed to make everything right.  She was his best friend, the only one he wanted by his side during such a crazy time like this.  And she was smart.  She would help him figure all of this out.

 

“Come on in,” she said, her voice muffled as her head still buried in his chest.  Finally Oliver released her and came into the apartment.  She shut the door behind them as he looked around.

 

“You still take pictures?” he asked, noting the photography on the walls.

 

Felicity leaned against the wall, watching him.  “Yeah.  Doing freelance IT work to pay the bills, but the photography thing is coming along slowly.”  She regarded him carefully.  “Oliver… why are you here?”

 

Oliver collected himself, knowing how this was going to sound to her, but needing to say it anyway.  “Something really strange is happening,” he began.  “Yesterday was my birthday party.  My  thirteenth  birthday party.  And today I woke up and I’m… I’m this.  And you… you’re that!” he gestured to the length of her.  “You get it?”

 

“Oliver are you high?  Have you been smoking pot?  Doing X?  Fallen in a K hole?  Are you doing drugs?”

 

“What? No!”  He sighed, rubbing his temple, frustrated.  “Look.  I was sitting in my closet and I just… I skipped everything.  High school, college.  Did I even go to college?  I don’t even know.  It’s like a weird dream.  I can’t remember my life.”

 

Felicity frowned, eyeing him carefully.  It was strange to him, babbling like he was.  Felicity had always been the one to babble.  But maybe that wasn’t her anymore.  How would he know?

 

“I need you to help me remember my life,” he said, his voice nearly pleading.

 

“Me?” she questioned.  “I can’t do that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t know anything about you Oliver,” she sighed, taking a few steps closer.  “I haven’t seen you since high school.”

 

“What?”

 

“We’re not friends anymore.”

 

Oliver stepped backwards.  He thought he had already made peace with this on the way over, especially after finding no indication of it anywhere on his phone or in his apartment or in his office.  But hearing her say it made it real.  “No, Felicity.  You’re my best friend.”  He knew his voice was adamant.  He knew he sounded like a crazy person to her.  But he didn’t care.

 

This was wrong.  It was all wrong.  It was everything he’d thought he’d wanted in high school.  He had the job, the body, the women.  But he didn’t have Felicity.  And that mattered more than all of it.

 

“I have to go,” Oliver said, moving for the door.

 

“Whoa,” she said, reaching out for his arm.  “You alright?”

 

“I shouldn’t have come here.  I shouldn’t have bothered you.”  He moved toward the door, needing air.  He took the steps down two at a time until he was back out on the street.

 

“Oliver wait!” Felicity jogged down the street after him.  “Let me at least help you get home?”

 

Oliver nodded, selfishly hoping that the time with her might jog loose his memory or somehow fix whatever was happening to him.  They walked back toward downtown as Felicity told him about their lives, or at least as much as she knew.  It turned out they’d gone separate ways not long after Oliver’s 13th birthday party.  He started spending more time with Tommy and that crowd.  Tommy never let Felicity fit in and she and Oliver drifted apart.  They went to different colleges and just had different trajectories once their lives stopped intersecting.

 

They were still next door neighbors, but when Oliver moved to Los Angeles he stopped coming home and they saw less and less of each other.  Felicity had gotten brief updates from Oliver’s mother when she happened to see Moira, but it wasn’t often and after a while she stopped asking about him.

 

“What about the holidays, Felicity?” Oliver asked.  He wasn’t ready to give up on their friendship, even if it apparently ended years ago.  “Didn’t you want to see me?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said, shivering a bit despite the heat of the day.  “Years passed and it just seemed easier to let it go.  Besides, doesn’t your crowd do St. Barts for Christmas?”

 

Oliver was quiet, not sure exactly how to answer her.  He couldn’t believe that Felicity would give up on him-- on them.  They’d been too good of friends for too long to just let it go.  But Oliver knew Tommy, and he knew how relentless Tommy could be.  If Tommy had an issue with Oliver staying friends with Felicity, there’d be no standing up to him.  And if Tommy ever made Oliver choose between being popular or being friends with Felicity… what would he choose?  

 

“Is this you?” Felicity asked, motioning to a building, pulling him from his thoughts.

 

“Yeah,” he answered with a sigh.  “This is where I live now.”

 

Felicity nodded.  “Okay, so… nice seeing you.”

 

Oliver paused.  He wasn’t ready to let this be the last time he saw her.  He wasn’t ready to let her go.  Not when she held so much comfort and familiarity, even being grown up and blonde.  She was still so…. Felicity.  There was still something so disarming about her, something that made him breathe a little deeper, think a little clearer.  Something in her presence that just made him relax.

 

“You’re good, right?”

 

Oliver nodded.

 

“Okay,” she answered.  Her eyes searched his, even if Oliver wasn’t sure what she was looking for.  Was she trying to find the scrap of a kid he’d been once, back when they were friends?  Was she trying to decipher if he was being genuine?  “Goodbye Oliver.”

 

“Bye,” he said, digging for his keys.  Did he even bring keys with him this morning?  It seemed so long ago he couldn’t even remember.  Felicity glanced back several times as she walked away.  “Felicity?” he called after her.

 

She paused, turning back to face him.  “Hmm?”

 

“Who is St. Bart?” he asked.  And the look on her face brought him back to yesterday, even if it wasn’t yesterday.  It softened, it was the Felicity he knew-- all awkward and gangly, hacking into computer systems for fun and snapping pictures at every available moment.

 

She let out a long sigh, and then walked toward him.  He wondered if he’d finally won her over, if he’d finally convinced her that he was who he said he was.  Still him, sure-- but no one that she knew, no one that he recognized.  To Oliver they were still best friends, but to her?  Who exactly did Felicity think he was?

 

\---

 

It had been two weeks.  Two weeks of being thirty.  Two weeks of still feeling like he was thirteen years old.  Oliver had learned a lot about life in those two weeks.  He learned that the old Oliver, the old- er Oliver had questionable morals (he was sleeping with the wife of someone who worked in the art department), he had a ruthless work ethic (it was highly possible that he was selling out the magazine to a competitor which was why the magazine had taken a nose dive of late) and his friendship with Tommy had been built on a foundation of mutual lack of respect and trust (considering he’d just found out that Tommy was going behind his back and was planning the hostile take over they’d discussed on his own and was going to sell Oliver out in the process).

 

It hadn’t all been bad though.  It had also been two weeks of rediscovering a friendship with Felicity.  In fact, Oliver had found a way to hopefully save the magazine with a rebranding effort and that was thanks in large part to Felicity and her phenomenal photography skills.  Oliver hired her for the week to shoot the whole campaign.

 

Things with them were still easy.  Or perhaps they were easy again, even if Oliver couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t easy.  But he could tell Felicity remembered.  He caught her smiling wistfully every now and again.  He wondered if she was asking herself if this was real or if it was part of some elaborate hoax he was planning and the other shoe was just waiting to drop.  But to Oliver, they were still best friends. Nothing had changed.

 

Except, perhaps, that Felicity was engaged.

 

To be married.

 

Oliver had met the guy.  He was nice.  He was vanilla.  He wasn’t enough for Felicity.  She deserved butterflies and goosebumps and her heart leaping when the guy was around.  And Ray Palmer just didn’t seem like the guy to do that for her.  Even by her own admission, he wasn’t the guy to do that for her.  But she’d told Oliver just the other night that she wasn’t expecting that anymore.  She had resigned herself to a life without those things.

 

Oliver felt oddly jealous over her.  Before--back in 1997 when they were both 13, Oliver hadn’t thought of Felicity that way.  No more than any guy did when they’re 13 anyway.  Things were different now though.  Now that she had someone that was providing things for her that Oliver couldn’t.

 

He found himself wanting to be the one to give her butterflies and goosebumps.

 

And the feeling only grew the more time they spent together.

 

Like spending all afternoon in a park as she did the final photography shoots.  Or like going back to his office later that evening and looking over all the proofs on her computer.  Oliver loved the way she swiveled in the chair when she got excited about the photos she’d taken.  He leaned over her shoulder, his face just inches from hers and he watched the excitement fill her face with every new shot that she clicked through.

 

“These are amazing,” he said.

 

“Yeah, they came out okay, huh?” she asked.

 

There was something there.  Something between them.  Something palpable and heavy in the air.  Oliver wasn’t sure if it was the low lighting or the closeness of their faces as they looked through the photos, but there was something there.

 

Felicity cleared her throat.  “You know what, it’s getting late.  I should probably get…”

 

“You know what I wish I had?” Oliver asked, cutting her off.  Because he wasn’t ready to let her go.  He wasn’t ready to let this end.  This whatever-it-was-between-them thing.  He needed more of it.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Razzles.”

 

The thought came out of nowhere.  But they used to eat them all the time.  They’d split a pack and see who could chew more.  After all, Razzles were the only candy that were both a candy and a gum.  Usually Felicity won, but only because he’d let her.  Besides, she could blow the bigger bubbles anyway.

 

Felicity laughed.  “I don’t think I’ve had Razzles in…. fifteen years.”

 

“We should get some.”

 

“Now?”

 

“Now,” he said with a smile.  He pulled her up out of his office chair and they rode the elevator back down to the main floor.  He felt like they were sneaking out of the house late at night with the way she giggled when they ducked into the first convenience store they found.  Low and behold, right near the cash register was the bright red pack of Razzles.

 

Oliver bought two.

 

“I can’t believe they had them,” Felicity said with a grin as Oliver poured out a bunch into her hand.  She popped the whole handful into her mouth.  “Mmm, mmhmm.”

 

Oliver did the same, savoring the taste of sugar.  “Uh huh,” he agreed, chewing through the candy to get to the gum center.

 

They walked along, enjoying the evening air and the pack of candy they’d often shared as kids.  Somewhere along the way they’d lost track of where they were, but it didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered but Oliver and Felicity and the moments they had together.  At least, nothing else mattered to him.  It was so hard to gauge what she was thinking anymore.  He used to be able to just ask her what was going on in her mind when she shut down.  But the rules were different now that they were both adults, even if he still felt like a kid.

 

Felicity laughed to herself, and Oliver glanced at her from the corner of his eye.  

 

“What are you laughing about?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she sighed.  “Just everything.  Life, timing.  Being here with you… eating Razzles.  It’s just so crazy.”

 

Oliver nodded; he understood to some extent.  But there were some things he couldn’t know.  Like the heartache she went through in high school when he stopped talking to her.  Or the feeling of him showing up again all these years after so much time passed with nothing.

 

“You know, I’ve had a really great time working with you this last week,” she said, stopping along the pier and looking out into the inky black ocean.

 

Oliver paused alongside her, leaning against the railing.  “Yeah, me too,” he answered quietly.  He knew that things couldn’t last this way between them forever.  Eventually things would change.  She would go off and get married or he would wake up one day and be 13 again or he’d find another way to screw her life up all over again.  He hoped for anything but the latter.  He couldn’t imagine doing that to her again.  Felicity deserved better than that.

 

He shook the thoughts from his head, not letting himself dwell on what could be.  But rather enjoying what was, what they had right then and there.

 

“Hey Felicity?” he asked, grinning wide.  “Tell me something.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What color’s my tongue?” he said, sticking his tongue out.

 

“What?”

 

“My tongue.  What color is it?”

 

The question caught her off guard and she laughed dismissively.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “It’s red.”

 

Oliver pressed on, enjoying the smile on her face.  “Red red, or tongue red?”

 

She laughed again, shaking her head.  “Razzle red,” she said definitively.

 

“Show me yours.”

 

“What?” she said again, still taken aback.

 

“Show me your tongue.  Come on, I showed you mine.”

 

“What is this? Fifth grade all over again?” she scoffed.  “I never asked to see yours.”  It was the first innuendo she’d made since he showed up at her apartment two weeks ago and her cheeks went pink.

 

“Felicity, I need to see your tongue,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

She stuck her tongue out and Oliver grinned, nodding appreciatively.  “Razzle red,” he confirmed.

 

Felicity bit her bottom lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  He knew she could sense the shift in their rapport.  Something about the last couple of days had changed them irrevocably.

 

“Want to know a secret?” Oliver asked, popping another few Razzles in his mouth.  Felicity nodded so he continued.  “You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

 

A smile spread across her face, something that Oliver would never tire of seeing, he was sure of it.  There was something so light and heartfelt about the way she smiled, something that was still so innocent and childlike about it, despite the years separating them from their childhood.

 

She glanced over her shoulder and then back at Oliver.

 

“I bet I can still beat you off the jump,” she said, gesturing to a swingset nearby.  It was a game they’d played as children in his backyard.  They hadn’t wagered on much growing up, but they’d always bet on this.  Who could jump the furthest midair from the swings.  Usually the wager included something like a popsicle.

 

Felicity moved toward the swings, hopping on one and waiting for Oliver to join her.  When they were both in position they began swinging back and forth, getting as much height as they could.

 

“Whoever goes the furthest, the other owes a drink,” Oliver declared.

 

“An orange julius,” Felicity said with a grin.  They’d been her favorite drink when they were kids.

 

“Ahh, upping the stakes I see,” Oliver answered.  “Okay fine.  And also- dinner Friday night to celebrate our concept being chosen as the redesign for the magazine.”

 

“Deal.”  There was a lightness to her voice, a smile present even though he could barely see her in the darkness, that hadn’t been there two weeks ago.  It made Oliver’s heart swell.

 

“One,” Oliver counted as they both reached their highest point at the front of the swing.

 

Felicity giggled.  “Two,” she said.

 

“Three!” they both shouted together, jumping from their swings and both landing face first in the sand.  Oliver rolled onto his back and Felicity ended up on her side facing him.  They were close-- closer than they probably should be considering her fiance.

 

But they were both laughing and enjoying themselves and Ray Palmer was the furthest thing from either of their minds.

 

“Oh, are you okay?” Oliver asked.

 

“I should have tucked and rolled,” Felicity groaned.  She attempted to sit and her hand found it’s way to Oliver’s chest.  “I’m getting too old for this.”

 

“No you’re not.  Because that means I am.”

 

She paused, arm across his chest, leaning over him.  Oliver wondered if she might kiss him right then and there.  But she groaned again, rolling onto her back.  Oliver sat up and found himself leaning over her this time.  Their faces just inches apart.  It would be so easy to just lean down and…

 

Felicity leaned up first, pressing her lips to his, causing his stomach to flip flop.  Her lips were warm and soft and sweet like Razzles and full of words they couldn’t say and more meaning than either could voice.  Oliver knew that everything was too complicated for this.  He knew that she still had Ray and that she didn’t believe in butterflies anymore.

 

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what if.  What if he proved to her that it was possible.  What if he showed her that Ray wasn’t right for her.  What if he went back and fixed everything, found a way to be 13 again, did it all right this time.

 

All too soon her warmth and sweetness were gone and Oliver opened his eyes to find hers full of confusion and doubt.  A blue haze of too many questions unanswered.

 

Oliver sat up, clearing his throat and resting his elbow on his knee.  Felicity sat beside him, resting her chin on his shoulder.  She had told him earlier that she was thinking about life and timing and being there with him.  He couldn’t help but wonder now what she’d meant by it.  Oliver knew that whatever choices he’d made in his life had brought him here, but the last two weeks were proof that things could change, that actual happiness was possible-- for both of them-- together.

 

After too many moments of thick silence, Oliver stood and dusted the sand off his clothes.  He held out his hand and pulled Felicity to her feet.  He didn’t say anything, because really what was there to say?

 

Felicity looped her arm through his and leaned on his shoulder as he walked her home.  He wondered what she was thinking but couldn’t find the courage to ask.  Was she weighing her options?  Was she thinking that things could be good between them?  That Oliver could be the one to give her butterflies and goosebumps?  It was more complicated than that now.  She had a fiance and a wedding date and a head full of too many bad memories between them.  Things that Oliver couldn’t undo.

 

They paused at the steps to her apartment building, neither quite ready to say goodbye.  Oliver knew that the spell would be broken after this.  Did Felicity know it too?

 

“I got you something,” she said quietly, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small wrapped package.  “It’s a couple weeks late…” she sighed.  “But happy birthday.”

 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said with a smile.  But she insisted, placing it in his hand.

 

“I hope it will help you find what you’re looking for, Oliver,” she said.  There was a finality in her voice that he hadn’t expected.  It seemed she did know that the spell would soon be broken.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Felicity nodded, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing inside, the door closing behind her.

 

“Bye, Felicity,” he said, turning away from the building and hailing a cab.

 

He didn’t open the package until he got home.  He had no idea what to expect, but the small envelope of wishing dust still surprised him.  It was the gift she’d given him on his 13th birthday.  It was the only reason he could think that had brought him here in the first place.  He felt foolish for even considering it, but he locked himself in the closet and opened the package, wishing himself to be 13 again.  Even if it didn’t work, at least he’d know he tried.

 

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew someone was calling his name.  Oliver reached up for the light switch, but it wasn’t where it had been just a moment ago.

 

The closet door opened and Felicity stood there.  But it wasn't the blonde Felicity from the last two weeks.  It was the gangly, brunette 13 year old from his childhood.

 

“Tommy said you guys were playing 7 minutes in heaven and you were waiting for me,” she said, cheeks pink from blushing.

 

“Yep,” Oliver answered, pulling her onto her knees and pressing his lips to hers.  Felicity responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck.  He kissed her the way she’d kissed him in the park just hours ago-- warm and soft and innocent.

 

When they broke apart, Felicity met his eyes.  Her lips were bright pink and she was breathing hard, but the grin on her face was everything he’d imagined.  “So that’s what it’s like…” she breathed, almost silently.

 

“What?” Oliver asked.  He knew what he wanted her to say.  He wanted to be right in everything he’d thought for the last two weeks.  That he could make her happier than anyone else.  That they deserved each other.  That he could give Felicity--

 

“Butterflies,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder.

  
And it was all the confirmation Oliver needed to lean in close and kiss her again.


	3. Irrational Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting a man who claims that someone is going to steal the Declaration of Independence, Felicity Smoak is more than a little concerned when he shows up at a gala and is far too nervous… Based on National Treasure

Felicity knew he was going to be a problem. From the moment that “Mr. Brown” stepped into her office, she knew that he was going to prove to be a huge, terrible, awful problem. Something about him had been off that day, and now, running into him at the gala… it was too coincidental.

In all her years working for the National Archives building, Felicity Smoak had never heard any tale quite as large as the one Mr. Brown had told her when he’d come into her office a week ago. He was far too handsome to be as insane as he clearly was, she thought with a sigh as he approached her. Trying to tell her that there was an invisible treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence. Who ever heard of such a thing?

Thankfully Ray made his way toward Felicity with a glass of champagne for her, despite Mr. Brown already handing her one. The latter took the glass back with an uneasy smile that made her senses go on high alert. She didn’t know what was off about him, but something was. She was sure of it.

“A toast, yeah?” Mr. Brown said, averting his eyes. “To high treason.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes a bit, wondering exactly where this was going.

“Because that’s what these men were committing when they signed the Declaration.” He met her eyes now, holding her gaze until Felicity began to feel uncomfortable. “Had they lost the war they would have been hanged, beheaded, drawn and quartered, oh, oh and my personal favorite, had their entrails cut out and burned.”

Felicity shifted uncomfortably, clearing her throat. She was used to being the one to babble and say far too much. Being on the other end of it was something new.

“So, here’s to the men who did what was considered wrong in order to do what they knew was right.” Mr. Brown studied her carefully now, his eyes intense and laser focused. And then, he tipped back his full glass of champagne and emptied the entire thing in one drink.

Felicity watched him with shock and mild horror as he excused himself, leaving her standing there with Ray, who was just as flabbergasted. Mr. Brown was a mystery, and if there was one thing Felicity hated it was mysteries. Felicity would just need to solve the mystery of Mr. Brown.

After a few moments of small-talk with Ray, Felicity slipped out, toward the entrance where all of the guests checked in. She found Caitlin there, a co-worker who she had lunch with sometimes.

“Caitlin,” Felicity said with a smile. “Do you have a Paul Brown on your list there?”

Caitlin glanced through the list once, twice before looking back up and shaking her head. “No, there’s no Paul Brown.”

“Thanks,” Felicity said with a tight smile.

“Hey, lunch tomorrow right? Big Belly Burger?”

Felicity nodded before scanning the crowd in the room. “I’ll see you then,” she said, her eyes already trained on the back of a man who might be Mr. Brown. Something about the ferocity in his eyes earlier, in the way he explained the men who signed the Declaration, it sat uneasy with her. But surely he wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of coming to her, of telling her about some plot to steal the Declaration if--

“He’s crazy, Smoak,” she told herself under her breath. “There’s nothing to it.”

Yes, crazy. Because life was just cruel enough to put a man that handsome in her path only to have him be bat-shit crazy.

Felicity walked the room a couple of times looking for Mr. Brown, but the man was nowhere to be seen. With a heavy sigh (more so because it was a mystery that would have to go unsolved than anything else), Felicity made her way to the coat check. She had never been much of a gala go-er, and the only thing on her mind was fuzzy pajamas and a hot date with Netflix. She had wanted to check her emails before leaving for the night, but ultimately decided that could wait another day.

She dug out the ticket for her coat and scanned the hallway once more, just for good measure. A head disappeared around a corner-- one that very much looked like Mr. Brown’s. Driven by instinct, she followed after him.

He made his way swiftly down a side hallway and a flight of stairs that were off-limits to the guests. It was an employee only entrance, and he was walking quickly. Surely her instincts had not failed her-- something about him was definitely off.

By the time she’d followed him outside, he was across the street, heading for an unmarked van. Felicity felt like she’d just crossed into some retro cop movie, but pressed after him nonetheless. He might be crazy, but he’d given no indication of being overly dangerous.

The back of his van was open and she closed the space between them.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing his attention. He closed the van door most of the way, a rolled poster-sized paper in his hand. “What’s that?”

“A souvenir,” he said with a fake smile.

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Brown, what’s going on?”

“Did you enjoy the party?” he asked.

Felicity felt her stomach tense. This wasn’t just off, this was wrong. This was bad. This was--

An alarm buzzed from the building behind her. She wouldn’t have believed it, she didn’t believe it. But here it was staring her in the face.

“Oh my god,” she said. ‘

And he wiped a hand down his face, visibly shaken by the sound. 

“Oh my god,” she said again, disbelief still clouding her mind, making her heart race and her hands shake. “You did not….” she turned back toward the building. “Security!” Felicity reached for the package, which Mr. Brown allowed her to take.

She headed for the building with the Declaration in her hands, yelling for security. She wasn’t sure why Mr. Brown had taken the Declaration or why he’d let her have it back so easily, but she needed to get it back inside. She needed him to pay for his crimes. Felicity wasn’t even paying attention as she crossed the road, the blue van that nearly ran her over coming out of nowhere.

Dazed, she took a step backwards, away from the van. Something silver glinted off a street light and Felicity felt her blood freeze in her veins. A gun.

A shot rang out and Felicity turned to see the men shooting at Mr. Brown and his friend. Three men jumped from the van still in front of her and grabbed her, pulling her into the van. Her screaming made no difference to them, neither did her kicking with her heels into their legs, although she’d connected at least two times if the howl from the one guy was any indication.

“Let me go!” she demanded, thrashing as she was thrown to the floor of the van. More gun shots sounded off until the click of an empty chamber echoed through the van.

Only then did they drive off, taking her hostage.

Felicity righted herself quickly, moving to the back of the small space with the document in her hand. She wasn’t giving it up that easily, even if these men did have guns.

“Hello,” one of them said with a smug grin. “And just who might you be?”

Felicity pushed her back up against the door, feeling the cool metal against her skin. It was enough to snap her out of her fog, her mind whirring with possibilities of how she was going to get herself out of this mess. The Declaration of Independence was in her hands. Under any other circumstances she would have been giddy. But this was not normal circumstances. And Felicity had to move fast if she had any hope at all of surviving.

The driver hit something-- a pothole the size of Texas maybe, and the van went flying, tools and metal objects raining down on them all. Felicity knew that she had to escape. Whatever these men wanted with her and the Declaration it wouldn’t be good. With all their backs turned, Felicity pushed on the handle for the door at the back of the van.

Another huge bump left her grabbing for the only thing she could hold onto so she wouldn’t go flying out the back. The door swung open out into the night air with her gripping tightly to the top of it for her life. She was headed for oncoming traffic and the van that Mr. Brown was in was right behind them.

Her captors drew their weapons, shooting at the van behind them, making them veer off course. Another quick jerk of the steering wheel sent Felicity back out into traffic as Mr. Brown got closer, the side door of his van open. He reached for her but they weren’t close enough. She needed to save them-- herself and the document. And Mr. Brown was her only chance.

Her door swung back in toward her captors with the guns and one of them plucked the document from her hands.

“NO!” she screamed, but the driver jerked again and she went swinging back out, this time close enough to reach for Mr. Brown.

“Felicity!” He grabbed her, pulling her into the van, and closed the door.

Felicity pounded her fist against the floor of the van. She was angry at herself for losing the document, angry at the men for stealing it from her. But most of all she was angry at Mr. Brown for taking it in the first place. And boy was he about to get a piece of her mind.

“Are you alright?” Mr. Brown asked, once she’d sat up.

“No, those lunatics--”

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“What? No--”

“Are you hungry? Do you need anything?” His voice seemed far more cool and collected than the situation called for. “Are you alright??”

“A little tense from getting shot at but I’ll be fine,” the driver said with a smirk.

“Well, I’m not alright,” Felicity screeched. “Those men have the Declaration of Independence.”

“She lost it?!” the driver said, looking back at them.

“They don’t have it,” Mr. Brown said, reaching behind him for a plastic tube. He unscrewed the top and slid it out. “See? Okay? Now can you please stop shouting?”

“Give me that!” Felicity demanded.

“You’re still shouting,” he said with an easy smile. “And it’s really starting to annoy. You would do well, Ms. Smoak to be a bit more civilized in this instance.”

“If this is the real one,” she said, watching as he made his way to the passenger seat and sat down. “Then what did they get?”

“A souvenir,” he answered. “I thought it would be a good idea to have a duplicate. Turned out I was right.”

Crazy and an ego-maniac, Felicity huffed to herself. Even better. She let out a frustrated sigh and moved closer to his seat. “Who were those men?”

“Just the people we told you were going to steal the declaration. It was the only thing we could do to keep it safe.”

“That’s dumb,” Felicity said, launching herself forward toward the case. “Give me that!”

“Felicity,” Mr. Brown said, pushing her hands away. “You’re shouting again.”

Their van pulled off into a small lot at the edge of a park and came to a stop. Her heart was still pounding in her ears, her blonde hair a mess of tangles and curls. Her skin still felt electric from the guns and the adrenaline and the excitement of it all. Bad excitement, mind you.

But her brain had finally finished putting together everything that had happened since she’d met Mr. Brown and when he opened the door and tried to make her leave, she resisted.

“There is no map on the back of the Declaration of Independence,” she said, recalling their first meeting.

“And there’s no way anyone could ever possibly steal it, either,” he countered, shaking the tube. “Everything I told you was the truth. I leveled with you one hundred percent.”

“I want that document, Mr. Brown,” she demanded.

“Okay, my name isn’t Brown,” he answered. “It’s Queen. I leveled with you ninety-eight percent.”

The last puzzle piece clicked into place and Felicity thought she might explode. “Wait, did you just say Queen? Queen? You’re that family with the conspiracy theory about the founding fathers.”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory,” he said. “And there’s the door.”

“If you’re not leaving, I’m not leaving,” Felicity answered. “I don’t go anywhere without the Declaration. So you better get used to me Paul.”

“It’s Oliver,” he sighed.

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Oliver Queen,” she sighed. “Thief of the Declaration of Independence. Congratulations, I think you just became America’s Most Wanted man. And trust me I don’t mean wanted in the good way. I mean it in the welcome to the next twenty years to life in a ten by ten cell kind of way.”

Oliver wrinkled his nose as he regarded her, shaking his head a little. “I think I changed my mind,” he said quietly. “Can we stop the babbling and go back to the shouting?”

Felicity smacked him in the arm. She couldn’t believe she was getting roped into this, into becoming an accessory for grand theft- national document. “I really do not see myself fitting in well at Guantanamo Bay.”

“Don’t worry Felicity,” Oliver said with a smile. “They don’t send blondes there.”

Felicity frowned. This was not going to end well for her, for any of them. But she was stuck in the middle now, unable to leave the Declaration in their hands. She thought back to the day he’d first come into her office telling her about the plot to steal the Declaration. She never would have imagined this was where she’d end up just a few short weeks later. She pushed out a sigh, remembering his gift to her when she’d refused to help him and after a long moment she said, “You are going to owe me way more than a George Washington campaign button for this.”


End file.
